After the whirlwind closing, Josh went back to the house with Radley and Sarah. The neighborhood was quiet; Josh assumed some of the houses were second homes that filled up in the summer. The former owners had agreed to sell him some of the furniture, which was great . . . some of the stuff was quite nice, and the house was too big for him to furnish on his own.

He figured his two friends would be good people to give him advice on where to put stuff . . . and help him feel less lost in this place. He didn’t plan to move in for some time, although Frank had told him that the market was hot for loft apartments like his, and he’d be thrilled to list Joshua’s.

But the apartment was where he and Lauren had lived. Josh wasn’t sure if he was ever going to sell it. He didn’t have to decide right away, but he did need to get his ass in gear and earn some more money.

Chiron Medical Enterprises, the company in Singapore, had sent him a case of wine and reminded him they’d love to host him, whatever he decided about their job offer, which was still on the table.

Right now, Radley was peppering Sarah with questions about why she went into public service instead of the more lucrative private counseling.

“I wanted to go where the need was greatest. The kids in the system . . . it just sucks so bad for them. Most of the time, they’re taken out of their homes at a really awful moment, then plopped into a foster home. No matter how nice the foster family is, it’s traumatic. So if I can be their friend, or their rock, during that time . . .”

There was a lot of nobility in that answer.

“Do you think you’ll ever burn out?” Radley asked.

“Absolutely. It seems like everyone in the department does. But for now, I’m good.” She stood back and surveyed the results of the furniture placement.

“When you go to private practice, we can be partners.”

“That would be so fun, Radley.” She smiled at their friend, then looked at Josh. “How are we doing, Josh? You like where we put this?”

“Yes,” he answered before he looked at it.

“Great! Well, I have to run. I’ve got a date.”

“Not so fast,” said Radley. “Spill.”

“He’s a telemarketer,” she said sheepishly. “Timeshares.”

“Oh, my God, honey,” Radley said, recoiling. “Is the dating scene that bad?”

“Yes.”

“Any port in a storm?” Radley asked.

“I just think if I comb through enough manure, I’ll find my diamond.”

“You deserve someone great, Sarah,” Josh said, surprising himself. “You sell yourself short.”

She tilted her head to look at him. “Thank you?”

“You do. Don’t go out with the telemarketer.”

“Hey. He’s employed, unlike half of the men I meet.”